


A Special Delivery

by NikaylaSarae



Series: STORK AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slapping/Hitting, Wing!AU, Winged!Remy, child!logan, hunger/starvation, parental neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25149712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae
Summary: “The stork brings the baby to deserving parents.” He whispered, quoting the words from memory. “All the lost, forgotten, and alone.”
Series: STORK AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821892
Comments: 18
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted with minor edits from my Tumblr account @stillebesat.

His cheek burned from his momma’s hand as Logan stumbled backwards away from the couch she’d been sprawled on since she’d gotten home from work. 

“MOVE.” She commanded, hand already raising again though her eyes never wavered from the moving pictures on the TV in front of her. 

“Yes, Momma.” He choked out, retreating out of her sight, covering his mouth with his hands to keep himself from making any further noise to distract her from her show. Breath hitching he went to the one space he knew she wouldn’t venture into. 

That still didn’t mean he was allowed into her sewing room, even though the only time he ever saw her within it was when she was dragging him out of it. 

Tearing one hand away from his mouth, keeping the other firmly over his lips, Logan reached up, turning the handle so he could disappear inside. 

He didn’t yet have the words to say how the smell of bundles of dust covered cloth calmed him as he went straight for the window on the other side of the room, but it helped so much. Carefully he wound his way through mounds and mounds of patterns, his fingers brushing across the different textures helping to further soothe him and chase the tears from his eyes. 

Pulling his other hand away from his mouth once he was certain he wouldn’t make a sound, Logan reached up to the window. He wasn’t strong enough or tall enough to be able to push it all the way up, but if he stretched on his toes and pushed with all his might, Logan could get it to slide upwards enough to give the outside sounds a chance to come inside and drown out the dumb show his momma had been watching since the sun had set fiveever ago.

Keeping a wary ear out for her screeching laughter, he rested his nose on the edge of the sill, eyes closing as the fresh breeze swooped into the room, stirring the stuffy air. 

He’d known it was trouble bugging momma when she was watching her shows, but at the same time, the moon was rising overhead and she hadn’t brought them anything to eat since yesterday. 

A whimper escaped him before he could stop it as his stomach twisted, feeling like it was trying to eat itself. 

Dropping to the floor Logan curled up, carefully leaning against a tower of cloth with varying star patterns on it, a trembling hand raising to his sore cheek. 

He’d figured out how to cook for himself around the same time he learned to walk, but you couldn’t make something out of nothing and they had nothing. 

He’d tried to tell momma before that she needed to go get more food, but she’d hit him then too. Not realizing that the fridge had been empty since the last time the moon was full. That the cupboards had been bare as of three days ago. That her leftovers for him were hardly ever edible when she dropped the random boxes on the counter after work. 

Logan swallowed, dropping his hand to the space between the wall and the tower of cloth, pulling out a thin worn picture book from its hiding place. His one treasure in this house that contained no other signs that he lived here. 

He flipped open to his favorite page, his hair shifting in the slight breeze coming from the window as he rested shaking fingers on the picture of the white and black bird -a stork the TV had told him once during a commercial- carrying a human baby. 

“The stork brings the baby to deserving parents.” He whispered, quoting the words from memory. “All the lost, forgotten, and alone. The stork comes and takes the babes from their unhappy places and brings them to daddies and mom--” He cut off, breath hitching as he scrubbed at his eyes with an arm. “Mommies who will love them very much.” 

If only that were true.

Logan bowed his head over the book, shoulders shaking, trying to keep quiet so his momma wouldn’t find him in here again.

Even if it were true that birds could do that, it was too late for him.

The Storks only helped babies.

And Logan...Logan was almost five.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan inhaled deeply, a spicy smell tingling in his nose as he stirred from his sleep. “Mmm.” He curled up tighter, breathing in the nummy scent. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he didn’t want to fully wake up and have this dream vanish. One where he was full and happy and eating--

He inhaled deeper. It smelt soooooo good. Maybe Momma--his stomach twisted unpleasantly, growling in its futile cry as memory rushed back to him.

There was no food.

Logan whimpered, hugging his middle. Why wouldn’t momma listen to him and get him food? His stomach hurt so badly from not having anything but--

“Now there’s no need for that.” An unfamiliar man’s voice said above him. “I brought you plenty.” 

Logan gasped, eyes flying open as he rolled away from the voice, stumbling to his feet to face the shadowy figure in the window. A man whose eyes were eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses that reflected the faint light coming through the crack in the door. 

“Whoa, whoa, hun. It’s okay. You’re okay.” The man said, slipping fully inside, one hand held out in a soothing gesture as large black tipped white wings fluttered before folding against his back. 

Logan froze, staring at the feathers that were patterned just like the stork’s wings in his book. Were those real? His fingers twitched with the need to touch them. 

“See?” The man smiled as he slowly crouched, holding out a grease stained bag. “I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo.” He said, keeping his voice soft. “I brought you a midnight snack. Can’t have you going hungry now can I?” 

Logan licked his lips, his stomach growling as the smell of chicken reached him again. He was hungry yes, but he needed to know--“Are those wings?” He asked instead.

The man tilted his head, a faint frown on his face. “Chicken strips actually. I wasn’t sure what you would ea--”

“No.” Logan would eat anything at this point, but that’s not what he’d been asking. He pointed. “On your back.” 

The man raised his eyebrows before he grinned. “Yes.” 

His mouth dropped open, eyes going wide. “Real ones?” Logan breathed.

The man chuckled and nodded. “Yes.” One of the large wings lifted and stretched out towards him. “You want to touch it, my little scientist?”

What was a sigh-in-test?? The question flitted through his mind as he took a step closer. He glanced back at the door where his momma was probably sleeping on the couch, listening to make sure she wasn’t stirring before he turned and plunged his fingers among the feathers. 

His eyes widened, a quiet “Oh!” escaping his lips as the wing shifted under his touch. The feathers were so soft! It felt like what he thought touching a cloud would be like. “Soft.” He whispered, reaching up to feel the top edge of the wing. “You can fly with these?” 

The man nodded, sunglasses reflecting the light from the doorway. “I can indeed. You like flying, little raven?” 

If only. Logan shook his head, dropping his hand. He didn’t know people could have wings. He thought that was only for birds. “I never try.” He admitted, bottom lip trembling as he turned to the man, hugging himself. “Momma--” His voice caught. “She--she--” 

The man carefully removed his sunglasses, slipping them up into his hair, revealing faintly glowing silver eyes like the moon outside. “She hasn’t let you out much has she?” He asked gently, holding out his arms in a silent invitation, the wing already outstretched to Logan gently bumping him to come closer.

Logan practically fell into the man’s lap, curling up without prompting. “N-no.” He whispered, shivering as the wings closed in around him. It was like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. “I wanna, but Momma--” He cut off sniffling, wiping at his eyes. He couldn’t make noise. Momma would be mad if she heard him crying. 

“It’s okay to cry.” The man said, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “Your Momma won’t hear you, I promise.” 

Logan nodded, his breath hitching “K.” He whispered, glancing to the crack in the door. He knew she was right there on the other side...yet he believed this man with his wings. He didn’t want to cry more though. Not when he had so many questions and this man was willing to answer them. He swallowed, blinking his eyes rapidly to keep the tears back. “Why you here? Momma have you bring food?” 

The man had come through the window though. And that wasn’t normal. Most of her visitors came through the front door and Logan had to hide in the hot hot hot attic until they left. 

He shivered, a whimper escaping him as the fingers running through his hair moved away, leaving him feeling colder than before. 

A couple seconds of rustling and the man held a chicken strip up to Logan’s mouth. “In a way she brought me to you, yes.” He said into the quiet. “But the food? That was my idea, kiddo.” 

The savory spicy smell of the chicken strip made his stomach growl loud enough for both of them to hear as Logan snatched it from the man’s hand, stuffing half of it in his mouth before the man could change his mind. 

The man shook his head, again giving that soft warm chuckle as he again held Logan close to him, again running his fingers through his hair, the touch chasing away the cold. “Easy, T-Rex, there’s plenty. It’s all for you, no reason to hork it down.”

Huh? “Hwwrk?” Logan asked, looking up, his mouth full of warm delicious meat. 

“Shove it in your face like you just did.” 

Oh. Hork. What a weird word. Logan carefully swallowed, forcing himself to take a smaller bite. “It’s good.” He whispered, resting his head against the man’s chest. 

The man ruffled his hair. “I should hope so. It’s my favorite.”

His favorite? “So you hungry too?” 

“Nah, kiddo. I ate earlier. Eat your fill.” The man quickly reassured him. 

Logan nodded, finishing off the first strip and gladly eating a second and third as the man handed them to him. It was tasty, his stomach hadn’t felt so full and happy in ages! Logan shook his head at the fourth chicken strip, pushing it away before carefully licking his fingers clean. “I full.” 

“Already?”

He probably could have eaten more, but the last time Logan had eaten tons and tons of food he’d gotten so sick. He didn’t want that. He snuggled closer to the man’s chest. “Why Momma bring you?” He asked fighting back a yawn as his eyes fluttered. “She not like people see me.” 

The fingers running through his hair paused. “I’m not most people.” 

Oh. “Cus of the wings?” 

The man adjusted his grip, carefully standing as he cradled Logan comfortably in his arms. “Yes. You remember what you read before you fell asleep, my little dreamer?” He asked holding up the picture book.

His book! Logan grabbed it fast from the man, holding it tight in his arms. He knew the story by heart. Every page. “The stork comes and takes the babes from their unhappy places.” He said, eager to prove that he did remember. “And brings them to daddies and--and--” He swallowed hard, and ducked his head, rubbing at his eyes as a single tear ran down his cheek. 

His Momma didn’t love him.

The black-tipped white wings spread wide. “Logan.” The man said, silver eyes shimmering as Logan looked up. “As your S.T.O.R.K., I’m going to take you away from here to your Daddy. A man who will give you more love and support than you can ever imagine. Okay?” 

Stork?! Suddenly Logan wasn’t so sleepy anymore, he wiggled in the man’s arms to sit up so he could look more directly into the man’s face, his heart beating loud in his ears. This winged man was a stork? “But--but--but--I’m not a baby!” He was almost five! Storks only came for babies! 

“No, you’re not.” The man agreed with a faint laugh. “But your Daddy won’t mind that. I promise.” 

Oh! His Daddy wante--but no. He sniffed, eyes blurring.  _ His _ Daddy was dead. Momma had said so. That was why she was so mad all the time. Which meant-- “A new Daddy?” He managed to choke out. Someone that would love him? Someone that wanted him? 

The man shook his head. “Usually that’s how these things work, but you, my special firefly, are going to your real Daddy. Your…” His face twisted. “ _ Momma _ can’t hide you from him any longer.” He tilted his head to the window. “If you will let me. You’ll see him tonight. I just need you to say yes.”

Hide him? So--so Momma had lied? But she’d said lying was bad! Why would she tell him Daddy was dead if he wasn’t?! 

The man shifted, sitting on the edge of the window, giving Logan a chance to see parts of the outside he hadn’t known were there. “What do you say, firefly?” He asked, wings fluttering. “Wanna see your Dad?”

His Daddy. His  _ real _ Daddy. 

Logan hugged the book to his chest tight enough to have the edges dig into his arms as he nodded, managing to speak in the barest of whispers. “ _ Yes.” _


	3. Chapter 3

The man flashed a smile and before Logan could blink, had them through the window and into the outside. 

Outside. They were outside! He wiggled in the man’s arms, mouth falling open as he craned his head trying to see everywhere at once, his book still held tightly against his chest. 

There were so many unfamiliar shapes created by the moon overhead, while the cool night air sent bumps rising all over his arms and---there had to be grass back here right? Logan could feel the tops of tall wispy things tickling the bottom of his feet as the man moved them away from the window, away from his Momma and deeper into the shadows. 

Momma. Logan shivered, raising a hand to his cheek, a small whimper leaving his lips as he shrunk down in the man’s arms. She was gonna to be so mad when she found him out here. So very very mad. He could already feel her hand against his bottom--if it was her hand this time. Being outside was much much different than being in her sewing room and--

A warm hand rested over his, cupping his face with gentle fingers. Logan gasped, looking up into soft silver eyes. 

“Hey, hey.” The man soothed, his wings spreading out around them like a shield.

Logan leaned into his touch, trembling. “Mo-momma” He choked out. “Be m-mad. I-I out-out here. So-so mad!” 

“Not gonna to happen.” 

Logan stilled at the certainty in the man’s voice. “It’s not?” He whispered. But Momma always got mad at him. Always. Momma would--

The man turned them so Logan could see the dark shape of his house and knelt in the tall grass, resting Logan comfortably on his knee. One wing moved to wrap around his shoulders as the man pointed to the window. “Do the S.T.O.R.K.s in your book ever let the children see their unhappy homes again?” 

“N-no.” Logan swallowed, clinging to the book with one hand, the other reaching out to touch the white and black feathers again.  _ Real.  _ Storks were real. “They’re...they’re ha-happy with their new daddies forever.” He was going to see his Daddy. His  _ real  _ Daddy. Who would love him and hug him and not sit on the couch staring at the TV demanding quiet like his Momma always did. 

“Exactamundo, starshine.” The man reached out, grabbing the air with his hand. Pulling his fist close to Logan’s face, he opened it palm upwards to reveal a mound of glowing silver dust. 

“Blow.” He said softly, tilting his head to the house. “And she’ll never find you. As your personal S.T.O.R.K., that’s my promise. You’re going to your Dad and nothing and no one, not even her, can stop me.”

Momma wouldn’t be able to find him? His Stork could protect him? Logan lifted his hand, fingers hovering above the dust. “Does it hurt?” He whispered, looking up at the Stork. “Momma be hurt?” He licked his lips, turning to the window. His book never said what happened to the old mommies and daddies. “Momma sad?” He didn’t want her sad. He’d been trying to make her happy, being good and quiet and staying inside, but she never stayed happy with him. He pulled his hand back to his cheek, feeling at the sore spot there. No, she would hit him. 

The Stork leaned in, gently kissing the top of Logan’s head. “Ah, my angel child.” He whispered, wings fluttering. “She’ll be fine. I promise. It won’t hurt her.” 

Logan leaned in closer to the silver stuff, glancing up to the man, chest getting tight. “So she no hit me if I blow?”

The hand holding the dust wavered as the wing pressed reassuringly against his back. The man wrapped his free arm around Logan in a hug, offering him a soft smile. “Never ever. You’ll go to your Daddy, kiddo, and she’ll stay right here watching her shows just like she’s always done.” 

Logan drew a breath, chest hurting like it was being squeezed as he peered over the wings at the house. Why couldn’t Momma ever smile at him like his Stork did? She only seemed to smile at the TV. “But no hitting?” 

“No hitting.” Mr. Stork confirmed, wings flapping for emphasis before drawing back. “Not you, nor any other child.” 

Logan relaxed, the tightness in his chest fading. Safe. “Ok.” Momma would be okay here and he would go be happy with his real Daddy. 

Drawing a deep breath he placed his face close to the dust and blew as hard as he could, sending the silver spots flying towards the house and into the window like a cloud of sparkling stars. “Bye Momma.” Logan whispered, turning abruptly away from the house to hug his Stork as tightly as he could, blinking quickly to keep his eyes free from tears. “We go Daddy now?” He swallowed as his throat closed up. “ _ Please? _ ” He managed to get out.

He shivered as tender fingers ran through his hair. “As you wish.” Mr. Stork whispered, his voice oddly choked as he stood, holding Logan close to his chest. “My brave little raven. You ready to fly?” 

Logan dug his fingers into his Stork’s shirt as the wings spread wide, trying to stifle a sob as he nodded. He’d always wanted to fly like the Storks in his book.

The man brushed Logan’s arms, gently pulling his fingers free. “I’m going to put you on my back alright?” He said, carefully lifting Logan over his head nestling him down between the black tipped white wings, his legs slipping down into a fabric carrier that secured him to the Stork. 

“Oooooh.” The sound left Logan’s lips involuntarily as he snuggled into the space between the wings, pressing his face against the soft feathers underneath him, relaxing as a scent similar to the fabrics in the sewing room surrounded him. Safe. He was safe here. 

The soft feathers shifted around him as the man spoke. “Okay, firefly. Hold tight.” 

Logan looked up just as the wings on either side flapped hard. Another wing flap and the stork jumped into the sky, Logan’s stomach climbing sharply into his throat as Momma’s house quickly disappeared from view as they flew up and up and up towards the moon. 

Logan held tight to his book with one hand, the other grabbing onto the feathers, his hair blowing all over in the wind. A soft whimper left his lips as they suddenly tilted to the right showing lots and lots of tiny dots of house lights far far below them. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. So high. They were so very very very high. 

“It’s okay, kiddo.” The Stork’s reassuring voice reached him clearly despite the roaring in his ears as they leveled out. “You’re safe.” Warm fingers brushed his foot before wrapping around his ankle in a steady grip. “I got you.”

Safe. Logan cautiously lifted his head, heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t thought flying would be like this! “We fly long?” He asked, barely above a whisper. 

The wings fluttered. “It will be a couple of hours, buddy.” He glanced back, sunglasses glinting in the moonlight. “Your Daddy lives up in good old NYC. You know it?” 

How could he not know it? “Momma--” Logan swallowed, licking his lips. “She---her shows are from there.” 

The man made a face, before shaking his head. “Hardly the best representation of how amazing the City is, starshine.” 

Re--repre---huh? “What you mean?” 

The man tilted his wings sending them up even higher. “Could you see much from the window when you looked outside?” He asked after a moment.

Logan ducked his head. “No, I too little.” He could see the sky the best and the tops of the trees, but not much else.

“Well...the shows are like that. You can see a little bit of a place, but not the entire backyard. NYC is so much better, more unique, and more diverse than what you see on TV.” 

Oh. Logan wanted to do that. See more than what he could see looking out of Mommas window. Carefully, he wiggled so that he could peer over the man’s shoulder. He wanted to see everything. See all the lights of different colors and patterns passing quickly below them. “Will Daddy show me more than the TV?” 

“For sure.” The Stork said without hesitation, flashing Logan a smile. “Your Daddy doesn’t like being inside much.” 

Logan’s eyes went wide, a shocked giggle escaping his lips. “We get to be  _ outside?! _ ” He asked. “Like this?” 

The man laughed reaching back with the other hand to ruffle Logan’s hair. “More often outside on the ground, my fledgling. Your father doesn’t really fly much.” 

Logan nearly lost his grip on his book. “ _ Daddy FLIES WITH WINGS TOO?!! _ ” His Daddy had wings! But how-- 

The laughter from the man shook his entire body, the wings flapping harder to keep them in the air. “Ah, starshine--” He gasped for breath. “He’s not a S.T.O.R.K. His methods are more...man made.” 

Oh. Logan ducked his head, his face growing warm. “I think wings are cool.” He mumbled, touching the feathers. 

“So they are. Especially with this view.” The Stork said, gesturing to the lights of a large city passing to their left. 

Logan squinted his eyes, trying to see the buildings within the lights. “Is that NYC?” It was so big! So many lights. 

“Not yet, but soon, kiddo. Soon.” The man reassured him. “That’s Atlanta down there.” 

Atlanta? That only spurred more questions as they flew on. Questions he didn’t fear asking because Mr. Stork answered every single one without telling him to be quiet or hitting him and it was the best! He’d seen so much, learned so much. 

He hugged the man tight some time later, content to just watch the millions and gazillions of lights all around them. He’d never known the world was so big and his Stork said they’d seen barely anything. 

“Look ahead, kiddo.” The Stork said, the soft feathers brushing Logan’s sides as he angled to the right, following a large river below that lead straight to so many lights that they lit up the entire sky like the sunrise. “Beautiful right?” He asked with a smile, sunglasses reflecting the city.

Logan sat up straighter, eyes wide. It had to be his Daddy’s city! It was so much bigger than that Atlanta place! He even recognized the green lady out in the water from the TV. They were almost there! Logan nodded eagerly. “Mr. Stork, can we fly like this every night?” 

A startled laugh left the man as he dipped his wings, sending them into a shallow dive. “You want to, fledgling?” 

Logan grinned wide, leaning forward to help them get closer to the city faster just like Mr. Stork had shown him. “YES! We can take turns with Daddy!” Mr. Stork had said that his Daddy flew too. Logan could share flying.” 

The Stork reached back ruffling his hair. “I can’t promise every night...but whenever I drop by, kiddo, I’ll take you up.” 

Logan hugged the man’s neck, watching the column of lights get closer, the humongous buildings towering over them as the man flew between them, heading into the heart of the city. “Promise?” He whispered. 

“Cross my heart and hope to fly.” He said solemnly as he used a gust of wind to shoot up the side of a building, his wings twitching in the smallest of movements to adjust his path before Mr. Stork suddenly folded his wings, stepping onto a balcony about halfway up the tower of brightly lit windows. “We’re here.” He announced softly, reaching around to free Logan from the carrier that had held him securely in place between the wings, pulling him back into his arms. 

Already? Logan gulped, fingers digging into Mr. Stork’s shirt as he peered into the living room. “Da--Daddy lives here?” It was so very different from Momma’s home, up here in the middle of the sky.

“Pretty nice right?” Mr. Stork asked, moving to the sliding glass door. “Our resident Edgelord has a sense of fashion when he wants to.” 

Logan didn’t know what fashion or an edgelord was, but he did like it. The room was brightly lit with big windows that took up the entire wall compared to Mommas dim and dusty home. The furniture was black, much like Momma’s brown couches that hid all her messes she left upon them. But this place had lots of bits of color everywhere he looked, especially purple. Lots and lots of purple. 

He could like purple. Purple was a nice color. Much nicer than brown. 

If--if Daddy wanted him to live here...with him. Daddy wouldn’t be like Momma right? He would love him. The Storks bring babies to Daddies who will love them.

But he wasn’t a baby. He was almost five! 

He tensed, struggling to breath and keep his heart from jumping out of his chest as a man with black hair suddenly entered the room through a different doorway, a book in his hand. “Daddy?” Logan whispered touching his own black hair. 

Momma had never liked his hair. Now he knew why. 

Mr. Stork took a slow breath, a wing coming around to wrap around Logan, keeping him warm. “Awake like usual. Let’s get you inside, kiddo.” Mr. Stork said, grabbing the handle and pulled. 

His Daddy had his back to them when Mr. Stork opened the door, but he tensed at the near silent whisper of the glass sliding back. Slowly, he placed the book face down on a small bookcase, resting his hands there. “Remy?” 

Logan shivered, his Daddy’s voice like a faint tickle in the back of his mind. He knew that voice, but he couldn’t remember hearing it before now. 

Daddy. Daddy. This was his Daddy.

“Knock knock, Sugarbee. Miss me?” Mr. Stork--Remy? asked, squeezing Logan comfortingly as they slipped inside.

The man hunched his shoulders, refusing to turn around as he lowered his head. “I don’t...why do you keep coming here, Rems?” He asked in a hoarse whisper. “I thought my answer was clear the last five times.” 

He sounded so sad. Sad like Logan had been sad when he hadn’t had any food.

Remy exhaled, his wings half opening before the one wrapped back around Logan. “Like crystal, doll, but you’re so wrong.” 

The man shook his head. “I told you. I’m not a good--”

“But you are, Vee.” Remy interrupted, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he moved deeper into the apartment and closer to the man. “You’ll make a great Dad if you’d just give it a chance.” 

Logan fidgeted, his heart pounding in his ears. Would Daddy still be sad if he saw him? Would he be happier if he did? Why couldn’t his Daddy just turn around so Logan could see him?

The man’s hands clenched. “You can’t know tha-”

Logan couldn’t take it anymore. Remy had said his Daddy wanted him right? That he would be a good Dad for him. That he would love him. “Daddy?” The word came out quieter than he wanted it to, but he couldn’t seem to make his voice go louder. 

The man whirled at his voice, storm grey eyes going wide as Remy pulled his wing back to fully reveal Logan in his arms.

_ Daddy _ . The word stuck in his throat as he stared at the man that looked like a bigger version of himself. Only their eyes were different, but not by much. Logan’s were blue, not as dark as Momma’s but still blue. 

“Virgil.” Remy said into the silence, shifting Logan in his arms. “This is--”

“Logan.” Virgil breathed, closing the distance between them in an instant, a shaking hand raising to brush the hair out of Logan’s eyes, trailing down to cup his cheek, searching his face. “Logan.” He repeated, grey eyes filling with tears as a trembling smile crossed his face.

His Momma had never looked at him like that. Never that he could remember, had she touched him so lovingly. 

Logan practically flung himself from Remy’s arms into Virgil’s, burying his head against his Daddy’s chest, sobbing. 

Virgil held him close, rocking him as he sank into a nearby chair. “I’m here.” He whispered, kissing Logan’s head. “I’m here, Lo. I’m here.”


End file.
